


Most Likely To Succeed

by jedusaur



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School, M/M, Seduction, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedusaur/pseuds/jedusaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I bet he has an art teacher seduction strategy," says Ryan dourly. "I bet it has its own file on his computer. I bet it's got bullet points."</p><p>"Five of them," says Spencer cheerfully. He's prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Likely To Succeed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazybutsound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazybutsound/gifts).



> Thanks to [](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/)**dear_monday** for the beta.
> 
> art_brutal made some art for this fic that can be found [here](http://art-brutal.livejournal.com/3706.html).

Spencer is a goal-oriented person. He has a text file on his computer in which he categorizes his objectives in life by urgency and scope, and he edits it all the time, adding things and shifting them around and rewording them.

There's always one goal set apart from the rest at the top of the file. Three items have occupied this spot since Spencer created the file six years ago. The first was MASTER DRUM PARTS OF ALL BLINK SONGS EVER. This life goal was accomplished when Spencer was fourteen and a half, at which point he switched his number one priority to GET LAID. The night after his sixteenth birthday party, still sticky with Brendon Urie's spunk and grinning ear-to-ear, Spencer ceded the top spot to GET INTO COLLEGE. Strictly speaking, he hasn't yet completed that last goal, but his applications are in and he can't do anything right now except wait, so there's no point in leaving it there.

He hasn't yet decided what to replace it with. The rest of senior year is stretching out in front of him, devoid of any potential shits given about schoolwork. Spencer knows he wants to do _something_ with his last semester of high school. He just hasn't figured out what.

"Pole-dancing lessons," says Ryan. "Teach yourself to count cards. Write a how-to manual on girls, Christ, why do my girlfriends always like you better than they like me?"

"Maybe because I don't expect them to be governed by a set of rules universal enough for a how-to manual?" Spencer suggests as he fixes his tie by feel, a skill honed by three and a half years of grudging dress code compliance.

It's the first day of the semester. They're waiting in line at the office, where Mikey the administrative assistant is printing out individual student schedules one at a time. It has to be the least efficient possible distribution system, but they keep doing it every single semester instead of pre-printing the schedules or maybe even e-mailing them out for students to print themselves. That would be the most logical thing to do, but apparently no one except Spencer cares.

He consoles himself with the knowledge that this is the last time he'll have to wait in this line. In college, there will be a website with more functionality than just a slideshow of smiling students with captions about how much better off children are in private schools than in the public education system. In college, no one will make Spencer wear a tie, and he'll be treated like an adult with a brain.

Yeah, and maybe his acceptance letter will come with a free College Pony. Spencer sighs and shuffles forward another two inches.

Ryan gets to the head of the line first, receives his freshly-printed course listing (bisected by a streak of ink from the office's crappy HP all-in-one), and wanders out without even looking at it. Spencer stays firmly in his hard-won spot by the desk until he's checked over his own sheet. He learned in sophomore year that if you walk away and then come back with a problem, you have to wait in line all over again. The student behind him tries to nudge him aside, but Spencer defends his position with a well-aimed hip-check and keeps reading.

Sure enough, someone's fucked up his schedule. "This isn't right," he tells Mikey. "I'm supposed to have geography fourth period, not art. I'm not taking art."

"Come back tomorrow," says Mikey. Spencer tries to protest, but Mikey is already asking the next kid's name. Frustrated, Spencer folds up the schedule and sticks it in his pocket on his way out of the office.

He finds Ryan in the crowd of students outside, poking his wrist with something. "They signed me up for art," Spencer tells him disconsolately.

Ryan looks up from whatever he's doing to his arm. Spencer doesn't ask. Don't Ask is pretty much rule number one of being Ryan Ross's best friend without going insane.

"We could be in class together," Ryan says.

"We could not. I'm coming back tomorrow and making him fix it."

Ryan doesn't look surprised. He's known Spencer for a long time, and exactly none of that time has ever involved wholesome shared craft projects. "Are you gonna show up today?"

"I guess," says Spencer. There's no point in going, but there's no real point in not going either, and he'd rather not get in trouble on the first day of the semester. It might be amusing, if he can get Ryan talking the teacher's ear off about alternative aesthetics or something. Spencer is about sixty percent sure that Ryan knows exactly how much bullshit he's full of, and is just playing some kind of massive joke on the entire world. Either way, he doesn't mind Spencer laughing. That's probably why they get along so well.

Ryan isn't in Spencer's first few classes. He has gym with Brendon, which actually turns out pretty well. He and Brendon still hang out, although they don't fuck anymore. Classes with Brendon can get annoying since he's so fidgety, but in a class where most of their time is spent running laps, fidgety is fine.

Spencer has art after lunch. He heads to the classroom a few minutes before the bell rings. Usually he likes to stake out his territory on the first day, since everyone always stays in the same seat throughout the semester. It doesn't matter for this class, because he's not staying, but he shows up early anyway out of habit.

There's an unkempt, abnormally beautiful man failing to open the door to the art classroom. He keeps unlocking it, pushing on the handle, locking it, jiggling the handle, and then beginning the cycle over again. Spencer observes him from a distance for a while, intrigued. Eventually, he takes pity on the poor guy and says, "You have to pull."

The man jumps, like he wasn't expecting anyone else to be in a high school in the middle of the day. "Really?" he says incredulously. "You're supposed to _pull_? But that would mean the door opens out into the hallway. If you open it too fast and someone's walking past, you could hit them!"

Spencer blinks. The guy is making no effort to actually operate the door. "Uh," Spencer says. "Sorry. That's how the door works." He steps forward and demonstrates.

The guy shakes his head and enters reluctantly, pausing to glare at the offending hinges. Spencer closes the door behind them and watches the guy perch on the desk at the front of the classroom, swinging his legs.

Apparently this is the art teacher.

Spencer sits down at a desk in the first row, right in the middle. No way is he wasting a single bit of his field of vision on the backs of people's heads when he could be using it to look at this dingbat. "Haven't you been in here before?" he asks. He finds it hard to believe that a teacher would just show up for class without checking out the room first.

"Oh yeah." The teacher gestures to the stacks of plastic bins lining the room. "I've been setting up all through winter break. I guess the door was open then? Or maybe Mikey opened it, he was usually with me helping out."

"Mikey from the office?" says Spencer.

"Mmhm. He's my brother." He holds out a hand. "I'm Gerard, by the way."

Spencer leans over the desk to take it. "Spencer." He's about to add that Gerard doesn't need to bother remembering that, since Spencer isn't sticking around, but then a few more students wander in and Gerard turns his attention to greeting them.

Spencer saves the seat next to him for Ryan, who slides into it right as the bell rings. Spencer will have to tell him about the incident with the door later.

Gerard starts off the class by waving at them energetically. It's kind of adorable in a pathetic sort of way. "Hi!" he chirps. "I'm Gerard. I'm really awful at names, I'm warning you now, but I do want to try to get to know you guys, and that's not gonna happen with me sitting up here talking at you. So go check out the supplies," he points to the bins, "and see if you can make something useful out of them during this hour, and I'll come around and talk to you about what you're making. Let me know if you have any questions or can't find--"

Spencer raises his hand, because if there were ever a time to snark at a teacher without fear of repercussion, it's in a class he's not actually taking.

Gerard breaks off. "Spencer? I know Spencer's name because he helped me open the door," he adds in explanation.

Spencer can't believe he just admitted that. The guy is shameless. "You know," he says, "if Oscar Wilde is correct, all art is useless, so your assignment is impossible."

Gerard's smile fucking _glitters_. Spencer can feel doom settling into his stomach as everyone gets up to investigate the art supplies.

The bins open like giant drawers. One of them is full of paints, one is full of fabrics, one is full of colored paper. There's one at the end that doesn't seem to have a cohesive theme. Spencer reaches into it and comes up with a handful of Legos, a metal gear, and a glow-in-the-dark condom.

He shows the handful to Gerard, who turns red and tries to suppress a laugh. "Oops," he says. "The miscellaneous bin is mostly random stuff I found around my house. That must've gotten in by accident." He snatches the condom and hides it in his desk.

Spencer returns the rest of the handful to the bin. He comes back to his desk with a roll of duct tape and a Sharpie. Ryan is already hard at work making a hatband with some brown cloth and a Batman belt buckle. There's a sheet of stick-on plastic rhinestones on the desk next to him, untouched. Spencer's not sure how the hatband might be useful--as far as he knows, Ryan doesn't even own any hats, since they're forbidden by the dress code--but he's Ryan's best friend, and he knows rule number one. He just swipes the rhinestones and goes back over to the bins.

He writes "PAINT" in neat block letters on the end of the tape while it's still on the roll, taking his time thickening the lines and making it readable. Then he rips off that section of tape and sticks it on the front of the bin full of paints. He chooses a pink rhinestone and plants it firmly on a corner of the tape. Then he moves on to the next bin. When he's done labeling everything, he sits back down and raises an eyebrow at Gerard. "What?" he says innocently. "It's totally art. There's rhinestones."

The doom fills a few more cracks between Spencer's internal organs when Gerard hits him with another blinding grin. "I was gonna do that myself," he says.

"Why didn't you?" asks Spencer. "Wanted to see if you could con a student into doing it for you with that 'useful' line?"

Gerard's eyes widen. "No! No, I just couldn't figure out how to spell "miscellaneous."

There is an actual dictionary _on the desk_ , right at this moment, four inches from Gerard's ass. Directly on top of the drawer containing the glow-in-the-dark condom, in fact; and this, this is the moment that Spencer gives in to the doom.

That night, he fills in the blank spot at the top of his goals file with the words SEDUCE GERARD WAY, and gives himself a deadline of graduation day.

***

Ryan's face hasn't twisted itself into this much of an expression since he was nine. "You're staying in art class even though you have no interest in it because... you have a crush on the teacher?"

"He is pretty hot," puts in Brendon, who isn't taking art, but keeps a detailed and current mental catalogue of every attractive guy on campus.

"It's not about the crush," says Spencer. He pokes through his cafeteria salad, trying to find any edible components hidden in the wilted lettuce. "It's like... okay, what have you learned in high school? What have you gotten out of the last three and a half years that will matter at all after graduation?"

"Uh... how to write poetry while looking like I'm taking notes?" says Ryan.

"Exactly!" Spencer points a french fry at him triumphantly. "It's not the curriculum that matters, it's the rest of it. High school is about developing the life skills to survive other people. It's my last semester, my college applications are in, my GPA doesn't matter anymore. Working on my life skills is the most useful way I can spend the rest of my time here."

Ryan still looks dubious. "Fucking a teacher is a life skill? Can't you just keep fucking Brendon?"

"Hey," says Brendon. "Spencer's cute and all, but he's last year's menu. I've moved on to greener pastures." He bats his eyes at Ryan, who either ignores him or doesn't notice.

"The _sex_ isn't the life skill," says Spencer. "I'm teaching myself the art of persuasion. Gerard has a really good reason not to fuck me. I'm going to convince him to do it anyway."

"How?" asks Brendon.

"I bet he has an art teacher seduction strategy," says Ryan dourly. "I bet it has its own file on his computer. I bet it's got bullet points."

"Five of them," says Spencer cheerfully. He's prepared.

***

Step number one is rapport. Spencer's already gotten a good start on that, what with his talent for door-opening and his rudimentary repertoire of Wilde quotes. The trick is maintaining that inertia without causing resentment in his classmates. If people start grumbling about Spencer being a teacher's pet, Gerard might try to back off.

Spencer's tactic there is to be horrifically, embarrassingly awful at art. Gerard seems to like him and chats with him before class, but when it comes to picking favorites, he can't even accidentally choose Spencer. There's never anything on Spencer's desk to coo at. Spencer makes sure of it.

It's actually kind of hard to stay awful sometimes. One day they do wire sculptures, and Spencer makes a hideous three-legged stick figure for Gerard to try not to grimace at, but then he sneaks away a handful of the wires when Gerard's not looking and spends his free period after art making a tiny, fiddly little 3D geometric pyramid. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever.

Ryan peers at it over his glasses and says, "I think you have a problem."

"You don't wear glasses," says Spencer. "Are those Brendon's?"

"You're changing the subject," says Ryan.

"You changed the subject by wearing those glasses. Are you fucking Brendon? Don't fuck Brendon. That is a serious dick move for a straight dude."

"I could be not straight," says Ryan, looking wounded. His eyes are slightly too big through the glasses. "You don't know what happens in my pants when I think about boys."

"Yes, I do," says Spencer. "I basically conducted a scientific study on the subject. We watched every single video on Xtube together in freshman year, remember?"

"You were looking at my _dick_?"

"You were _masturbating_!"

A silence falls over everyone sitting near them on the lawn. Spencer looks around at all the interested faces and cracks up. Ryan sits there, confused, blinking awkwardly through Brendon's glasses.

It takes Spencer a few minutes to catch his breath. When he can talk again, he says, "If you get a headache from Brendon's prescription, I'm not giving you any painkillers."

"Whatever," says Ryan. "We're not really fucking. He's mostly just blowing me."

"You're such a jerk," says Spencer. "Seriously. I have no idea why I'm friends with you. Give that pyramid back, you don't deserve the glory of its presence."

***

As far as Spencer is aware, Gerard has never once sat in his desk chair. During the hands-on parts of the class, he's always wandering around between people, checking out what they're doing. When he's lecturing, he sits on his desk, usually perched on the edge with his feet dangling. When he needs to get to the computer to project things on the big screen, he sits cross-legged, smearing dirt from his Chucks all over everything on his desk. One time he gestured too emphatically and almost fell off.

Spencer is many things in art class, but he is rarely bored.

Today Gerard is talking about color theory. He's covered color wheels, combinations of pigment and light, and the difference between hue and brightness and saturation (Spencer got lost halfway through brightness, but that's probably not so much the fault of Gerard's lecturing as it is of Gerard's fucking mouth) and has moved on to eliciting emotion with color. To illustrate this, he's enthusiastically analyzing a screencap from Metroid and a screencap from Kirby.

"Light green, blue, pink, lots of pastels," he's saying, pointing at the Kirby image. "Cheerful, innocent, happy, childlike, whereas Metroid's design is based on late-seventies sci-fi/horror films. It's darker, where there's any color at all, and there's a lot of space that's just plain black to give you a sense that there might be more sinister things hiding in the shadows. Lack of color can be just as interesting as color, but we'll get to that when we start talking about negative space."

Ryan keeps trying to catch Spencer's eye. Spencer won't look at him. He refuses to allow Ryan to lambast Gerard with silent contempt during class. He puts up with enough of the loud kind the rest of the time.

After class, Spencer hangs back and waits until the room is empty. Gerard appears to be trying to insert lead into his mechanical pencil through the wrong end, and doesn't seem to realize Spencer is still there.

"Um," says Spencer, and Gerard jumps. "Can I maybe talk to you? I know I'm supposed to go to the counselor, but I don't really feel like I can open up to her about some things. But I'm guessing you don't have any problems with gay people?"

Gerard grins, eyes flicking down. "Definitely not."

Well, there's one big question out of the way. Spencer tries not to look too gleeful, because he's supposed to be projecting anxiety right now.

Gerard hops down off his desk and sits in the chair next to Spencer's. "What's up?" he asks gently.

Spencer tilts his body toward Gerard a little--not too much, he hasn't gotten that far in the plan yet, just enough to make the situation feel platonically intimate. "I have a straight friend and a gay friend, and the straight friend is basically using the gay one for sex. I'm not either of these people," he clarifies hastily. "I wouldn't let a straight dude yank me around like that. I really am just worried about my friend getting hurt."

He just _totally nailed_ that casual implication of his own orientation. Perfect.

Gerard wrinkles his forehead. "Are you sure the straight one is straight?"

"Yeah," says Spencer. "He's not really... reciprocating."

"Oh." Gerard pinches his lips together disapprovingly, looking exactly like Spencer's grandmother when someone expresses politics she doesn't agree with. "I think the best thing to do would be to talk to your gay friend, and make sure he's not holding out for more from the relationship. It's possible that he's getting what he's looking for. If he's not, maybe appeal to the straight one's better nature? I don't know, sometimes you have to let people make their own mistakes. All you can do is get them communicating and make sure they're on the same page. After that it's really up to them to figure things out."

It's good advice. Spencer has, in fact, already taken it, if you count telling Brendon, "You realize he's never gonna touch your dick, right?" and then, upon Brendon's insistence that Ryan "just needs some time," calling up Ryan and verbally abusing him for fifteen minutes. The spirit of the thing is the same.

"I guess you're right," he says. "I just wish they weren't both being such morons."

"We're all morons about sex," Gerard says. He smiles, and maybe it's the topic of conversation, or maybe it's the way they're sitting so close together, but that smile goes straight to Spencer's cock.

He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees to hide the problem. "Thanks," he says. "I appreciate you listening to me."

"Hey, anytime," says Gerard, nudging his foot companionably against Spencer's.

Spencer rushes through his stock of emergency boner-dampening mental images as he picks up his backpack. He might have to stand up a little slower than usual, but thanks to that one time his toilet overflowed epically all over the bathroom, the inconvenient bulge is gone by the time he's fully upright. Hallelujah for defective plumbing.

***

The second bullet point in Spencer's plan is observation. He's confident, but he's not cocky enough to be stupid about this. He knows seduction doesn't work without a basis in attraction. Step three is the riskiest part of the plan; before he implements it, he needs to find out as much as he can about how Gerard functions. He might not care much about the rest of senior year, but he doesn't want to get kicked out of school.

Fortunately for him, Gerard isn't really the shy and retiring type. He keeps accidentally swearing during lectures, he'll happily talk about himself until somebody interrupts, and one time Spencer walks in on him and Mikey the administrative assistant having a swivel chair race. Mikey just gives Spencer a cool look like he's the one misbehaving, but Gerard executes a poorly planned braking maneuver and knocks his chair over, sprawling out on the floor and laughing his head off. He's really not the most subtle of people.

So Spencer keeps an eye on him. He pays attention during class, of course, but he also talks to Gerard as often as is reasonable, and sometimes watches him when he's walking around the school. That doesn't seem to happen very often, though. Gerard tends to spend all his time in his classroom or in the office.

The weirdest thing Spencer notices is that when anyone else in the class has a question, Gerard finishes his thought before calling on them, but he always interrupts himself when Spencer raises his hand. Spencer thinks it's a coincidence at first, but then he starts keeping track, and the pattern holds.

He writes down all the questions for a week's worth of class time, just to see if there's anything different about the things he says. The list looks like this:

 **Other people's questions**  
"Can I go to the bathroom?"  
"Wait, what's saturation again?"  
"There's a squirrel in your hair." (This is Ryan, just trolling to see if Gerard will check his hair for squirrels. He does.)  
"Uh, what if I forgot to wash my paintbrush last time? It's all hard."  
"When you say we have to turn it in on Wednesday, does that mean in class on Wednesday, or can we give it to you later as long as it's still Wednesday?"  
"What does Stanley Kubrick have to do with silhouette portraiture?"  
"Can you say that again? Like, everything you just said? I wasn't writing it down."  
"This ink stuff will come out of my uniform shirt with Tide, right?"  
"Do we have class on Valentine's Day?"  
"Are you wearing glitter mascara?" (This is Ryan trolling again. Gerard is not wearing glitter mascara, much to Spencer's disappointment.)

 **Spencer's questions**  
"I think that's supposed to say aesthetics, not prosthetics. Are you using Microsoft Word spellcheck?"  
"Your shoe's untied."  
"Did you know Leonardo da Vinci invented a prototype for an artificial mitral valve that inspired somebody to improve heart surgery procedures, like, last year? My point here is _screw_ the Mona Lisa, he actually _did_ stuff."

Spencer can't see any particular reason for Gerard to pay more attention to his questions than anyone else's, which means it's probably safe to move on to step three.

***

Step three goes like this:

"I want to have sex with you."

Gerard's mouth drops open, and he starts to say something. Spencer holds up a hand. "No, I know, you're my teacher, you're not going to do that. I understand. I'm just letting you know that you could."

He slings his backpack over his shoulder casually and heads out of the classroom. His heart is pounding, because he knows this is the part that could get him in serious shit, but he's also riding the high that comes with fucking up the status quo. Whatever happens after this, art class will never be the same.

***

"You what."

Ryan is wearing the Batman hatband he made on their first day of class. He's not wearing a hat, just the hatband, perched awkwardly on his head like a cross between a headband and a crown. It's the most ridiculous thing Spencer has ever seen Ryan wear, and that's seriously saying something.

"I thought you were just fucking around," says Brendon, eyes wide. "You really said that? Shit, dude, you're gonna be in so much trouble."

It's possible that Brendon's right, but Spencer doesn't think so. It's been a whole day. If Gerard was going to tell anyone, he probably would have done it already. He might tell Mikey, but Spencer has never seen a single indication that Mikey gives a crap about this school or its rules. He probably wouldn't bother tattling.

"We'll see," Spencer says. He takes a bite of shitty bulk-ordered potato salad. He should really start bringing his own lunches to school. "Hey, do you guys want to come hang out on Friday? Movie night, or video games or whatever?"

"Can't," says Ryan. "I have a date."

Spencer resists the urge to bury his head in his hands and leave it there for the next ten minutes. He estimates that Brendon will spend at least that long cussing until either he stomps off in a huff or somebody drags him away to the office.

Brendon surprises him by quietly getting up and leaving without any kind of fuss. He disappears around the corner, the entire upper half of his body kind of drooping. Spencer watches him go, then kicks Ryan viciously under the table.

"Ow!" says Ryan. "What the fuck?"

"What the fuck do you mean, what the fuck? Why the hell did you do that to Brendon?"

"I never said it was a thing," Ryan protests. "He's the one who kept trying to--"

"To get you to _not be a dick_? Yeah, I can see how that would fuck things up for you and your daily happy ending." Spencer ditches the rest of his lunch and goes after Brendon.

He finds him sitting between the stacks in the library, leaning up against a shelf of biology books and staring at his knees. Spencer sits down next to him, and Brendon immediately tilts his head to rest on Spencer's shoulder. "It's my fault," he says. "I didn't listen."

"It's Ryan's fault," corrects Spencer. "He didn't _talk_. Or keep it in his pants, which is what he really should have done." He takes Brendon's hand and squeezes it.

Brendon squeezes back tightly. "I could still come over," he says. "Maybe we could mess around. I could use a rebound."

"Headed back to browner pastures, huh?" Spencer kisses the top of Brendon's head. "Sorry, I'm building up sexual tension right now. Gotta save it for the professor. All part of the plan."

Brendon lifts his head up curiously. "Are you not jerking off?"

Spencer wrinkles his nose at the thought. "Jesus, I'm not a fucking masochist. Of course I'm jerking off."

"Can I think about you jerking off while I'm lying in my room, cold and alone?"

"Sure, dude," says Spencer affectionately. "Knock yourself out."

***

The sexual-tension stage of the plan is pretty fun, actually. Gerard is jumpy for a while, but after the next time Spencer gets him alone and just talks about class assignments and the latest Radiohead album, he calms down. He's less chatty than he was before Spencer blatantly came on to him, and he avoids Spencer's eyes a lot when they do talk, but Spencer keeps catching him looking when he thinks Spencer isn't paying attention. Spencer just smiles at him, friendly and maybe a little secretive. Gerard always looks away, then back a moment later, like he can't control his gaze. It's sort of addictive.

The plan's final step--teasing Gerard until he breaks--isn't supposed to go into effect until after spring break, but a few days before the vacation starts, Spencer has a dream that he just can't waste. Fate even conspires to give him a reason to stay after class: somebody spills an entire can of yellow paint on the floor right as the bell rings. It pools around the desk and chair legs and starts seeping under the supply bins. The kid who spilled it starts apologizing wildly, but Gerard waves him off to class, saying he'll deal with it.

"I have a free period," says Spencer. "Want some help?"

"Yeah, thanks," says Gerard, his voice muffled from the cabinet his head is stuck inside. "I know there were some more paper towels in here somewhere..."

"Maybe I should label the cabinets, too," says Spencer. He checks inside a different one. "Here they are."

He rips open the package and tosses Gerard a roll, and they're quiet for a while as they mop up the paint. Spencer lets the silence stretch out until the puddles are mostly under control, then he says softly, "I had a dream about you."

He doesn't push it further than that, just puts it out there and leaves it. This part of the plan is all about giving Gerard the opportunity to act. Nothing's going to happen if Spencer is the one making all the moves. He has to let Gerard dig himself in.

It works. After a long time, in a wary tone that tells Spencer he knows exactly what he's asking, Gerard says, "What happened in the dream?"

"I rimmed you," says Spencer. He keeps his voice low and even. "I'd never even fantasized about that before, but I think my subconscious had the right idea. It was fucking hot."

He finishes scrubbing down the chair legs while Gerard wipes off the bottoms of the bins as best he can. The paint is a bitch to get off, even though it's still mostly wet. Eventually they manage to get the floor mostly clean, and the furniture clean except for way down in the cracks.

While they're washing up, Gerard says, "We can't do this."

"Do what?" says Spencer. He dries his hands on a paper towel. "We're not doing anything."

***

Spencer gets all of his college decision letters within the same week, like the colleges are coordinating with each other or something. Two of them are rejections, which is disappointing, but it's okay because the other three are acceptances and one of those is his top choice. It's a relief. He is so fucking ready to be out of here.

Once he's accomplished his goal, that is.

He backs off for a while. The plan is going well, and he doesn't think he'll need to push Gerard too much further. He stays after class a lot, using his free period to talk with Gerard, or rather to listen. The more time they spend together, the more comfortable Gerard seems with him, and comfort is important.

Also, Spencer has schoolwork to half-ass. His assignments are actually a lot more fun now that he's not stressing on getting his thesis sentences perfectly structured for that extra two points. He's starting to get creative, and to his great surprise, it's not affecting his grades as much as he would expect. Some teachers actually seem to like his newfound imagination. Gerard must be a bad influence on him.

Ryan is dating a skinny blonde girl who never smiles. Contrary to Ryan's complaint, she does not like Spencer more than she likes him. This is probably at least partially because Spencer is still mad at Ryan for jerking Brendon around. He doesn't give Ryan the silent treatment or anything like that--they're too co-dependent to stop talking for long--but he hasn't forgiven him.

Brendon has sworn off men forever. This has happened at least three times already, but this time it's lasted more than two weeks, which means it's serious. Spencer's tempted to take him up on the rebound offer, but he resists. A little celibacy is good for him. It'll just make his eventual encounter with Gerard that much more satisfying.

***

In mid-April, Spencer decides that Gerard has gotten a little _too_ comfortable, so he leans against Gerard's desk and asks, "When's the last time you wore high heels?"

It's the period after Spencer's class. Gerard has pushed all the desks against one wall and is sitting in the middle of the floor, legs splayed, trying to make a giant origami porcupine. Spencer has been sitting down there with him for half an hour folding increasingly aerodynamic planes out of the expensive origami paper.

Gerard's gaze darts to Spencer's face briefly, then settles on the paper airplane he's still holding. "Why?"

Spencer moves the paper airplane from side to side experimentally. Gerard follows it with his eyes, to all appearances unaware of what he's doing.

"I think it's recent," Spencer says. "I'd bet, like, five bucks that you've worn high heels this month. Makeup, too." That's a commitment. Five dollars is a hefty chunk of cash when you don't have a job and your parents don't believe in allowances.

He can tell already that he's right. Gerard looks a little terrified, but he also looks a little eager, like he wants Spencer to keep talking. That's good. It's what Spencer wants to see.

"Why do you think that?" Gerard asks, but Spencer knows he's really asking _how did you know?_

Spencer shrugs. "You walk like you're working a runway. Sometimes you rub around your mouth like you're checking for lipstick smears, like it's a force of habit."

"You watch me?" Gerard is actually making eye contact now, and his cheeks are flushed. The half-finished porcupine lies forgotten on the floor in front of him.

"All the fucking time." Spencer slides down to the floor again and shifts toward Gerard, not quite in his space, but almost. "You like that, don't you? That I pay attention to you?"

Gerard glances at the door. It's blocked by three rows of desks.

"You're such a show-off," murmurs Spencer. "I think you like being watched. I think it turns you on to think about doing me right here where anybody could walk in."

"We shouldn't," says Gerard, but he's leaning in, not away.

"No, we shouldn't," agrees Spencer. "That's the best part, isn't it?"

Gerard's hand lands on Spencer's thigh, and Spencer knows he's got him.

Then an entire motherfucking gym class jogs past the window, and Gerard jerks back. Spencer's head fills with profanity, but he works hard not to show it. Getting jumpy will only encourage Gerard's jumpiness. Right now Spencer needs to exude soothing confidence.

He stifles a sigh and confidently, soothingly lobs his paper airplane across the room.

***

Gerard avoids him like he has smallpox for weeks after that, which is good because it means he doesn't trust himself to be alone with Spencer, but bad because he's actually pretty good at avoidance. He starts leaving the classroom after every class period, or getting Mikey to come help clean up so Spencer can't find an opportunity to corner him.

On the last day of classes, Spencer's final chance to meet his deadline, Spencer skulks around the library for half an hour after school lets out and then loops back to Gerard's classroom. Gerard is in there cleaning out the student desks, oblivious to the impending ambush.

Spencer slips inside and closes the door behind him. Gerard looks up and stops dead.

Spencer advances toward him slowly. No sudden movements. There's no need to scare him anymore. He's laid all the groundwork for this, and he knows he's done it right. All he needs to do is step just a little closer and wait.

"It'll work," says Gerard quietly. "If you push this right now, I'll give in." He takes a shallow, hitching breath. "Can you just... take that as a win, and wait one more day, and let me keep my job? Please?"

Neither of them moves for a long, hot moment. Then Spencer puts his hand on Gerard's shoulder and pushes gently down. Gerard sinks to his knees, bringing his mouth level with Spencer's crotch. He stays there, breathing warm air onto Spencer's dick through his jeans.

Then something in him snaps and he goes for Spencer's fly, clumsy and desperate. He's got the button open and the zipper halfway down before Spencer stops him.

"One more day," he says, and backs away.

***

Spencer considers his goal accomplished. Once he's got the target kneeling and ready to give head, it counts as a seduction.

He was going to go through with it. The plan was for it to happen at school, before graduation. But somewhere in there he started actually liking Gerard, and it's true that getting caught _in flagrante fellatio_ with a student would get him canned in a heartbeat.

Besides, if Spencer waits, he can take his time. He's spent all semester building up to this. He doesn't want it to culminate in a ten-minute classroom tryst.

Graduation day is slightly overcast, but not enough to shift the stage setup inside, which means everyone gets drizzled on halfway through the interminable ceremony. Spencer endures the wait and the rain in stoic silence. This is just high school's last shot at him, one final fuck-you before he moves on to a utopian world of dorms and weed. He's not going to let it ruin his mood.

After the diplomas are finally distributed, and an announcement is made that they'll all be getting dry reprints in the mail, the students are finally released from their seats. A crowd of black gowns gathers around the teachers, all the students apparently happy to express their appreciation for their education now that they don't have to sit through it anymore.

Spencer waits for it to disperse a little before he tracks down Gerard and makes him write down his address on the back of the damp diploma. Spencer's going to have to let his family spoil him for a couple hours, but he can sneak away later in the evening. No one's going to ask where he's been tonight.

Brendon is chatting up somebody's older brother, who looks fratboyish and somewhat stoned but interested. Spencer grins. Ryan comes up behind him and says, "I swear I will never again squash a man's heart for the sake of my own selfish blowjob desires. Are we good now?"

"Asshole," says Spencer, which pretty much means yes.

***

It's not frantic, when it finally happens. Gerard lets Spencer into his apartment, pushes the door closed, and kisses him softly. Spencer's spent so many class periods staring at Gerard's lips that he's perfectly satisfied to lean up against the wall and make out as long as Gerard wants.

Gerard's hair is wet, too wet to have been caused by the minor rainfall. He must have taken a shower before Spencer arrived. Spencer thinks about him standing under the spray, cock in hand, almost definitely imagining the two of them together. He presses closer against Gerard's body.

They move to the bedroom, passing a cluttered living room and kitchen on the way. The bed is made, the edge of the sheet a little crooked like it was a last-minute thought. Spencer strips off his clothes, watching Gerard do the same.

It doesn't feel like seduction anymore. No one's persuading anyone. It's lost that edge of danger, but Spencer doesn't mind. He feels a little bit more like an adult this way.

He kisses Gerard again, and murmurs against his lips, "I keep jerking off thinking about my tongue in your ass. That dream was pretty fucking vivid."

Gerard shivers and lets Spencer push him face-down onto the bed. Spencer crawls up behind him and strokes his thighs, spreading them wide, then bends his head to kiss Gerard's lower back. He rubs his hands against Gerard's ass, just enjoying the feel of his skin. Gerard lets out a pleading sound that progresses from "mmmm" to "nnngh" without the involvement of a single vowel.

Spencer runs his tongue down Gerard's asscrack and jams it as deep in as he can. And oh, there are Gerard's vowels. Spencer would smile if his mouth weren't busy eliciting as many of those noises as possible.

Gerard's moans gradually morph into a chant of "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." Spencer replaces his tongue with his fingers and starts stretching him out with spit. There's lube and condoms on the bedside table, just barely within reach. Spencer snags them and adds some slick to his fingers, which is like cranking up the volume on Gerard's increasingly desperate pleas.

"I was right about the cross-dressing, wasn't I?" Spencer breathes into Gerard's ear as he fucks him with his fingers. "And the exhibitionism. What else turns you on?"

Gerard takes a deep, shuddering breath and says, "Being pursued. Feeling like someone really, really wants me."

Spencer takes his fingers out and rolls on a condom. As he presses into Gerard, he says, "I wasn't supposed to take art. My schedule got screwed up. I only stayed after the first day because I wanted to fuck you."

Gerard jerks backwards, impaling himself all the way onto Spencer's cock. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he says, and starts thrashing his hips back and forth. Spencer could keep telling Gerard about his plan, about the bullet points and the number one goal, but Gerard doesn't seem to need any more riling up, and Spencer is going to have to save his energy to keep up with Gerard's rapid movements.

Gerard's ass feels fucking amazing, and the noises make it even better. Brendon never made all that much noise, and Spencer didn't think he cared either way, but the way Gerard can't seem to hold it in goes straight to Spencer's dick. He tries to slow down, make it last, but Gerard isn't having one tiny bit of that. He grabs Spencer's hand and shoves it underneath him, and Spencer takes the hint, jerking him off and letting his own orgasm overwhelm him.

***

In the morning, Spencer finds Mikey slamming coffee in the kitchen. He takes a moment to be glad that he put on his boxers before leaving Gerard's room. "Tell me you weren't here last night," he says flatly.

Mikey shakes his head. That's a relief, at least. Spencer pours a cup of coffee for himself and sits down across the table from Mikey. They sip quietly, eyeing each other occasionally.

Spencer finishes his mug, sets it down, and says, "It's your fault for putting me in the fucking art class, you know."

"Uh-huh," says Mikey. "'Cause no other student has managed to make it through a semester of art without propositioning the teacher."

Spencer stands up and pours another cup, then retreats to the doorway. "Nice chatting with you," he says. "I'm gonna go spend the rest of my morning making your brother scream. See ya."

The front door slams before he makes it back into the bedroom. Spencer smirks to himself.

Gerard is propped up on his elbows, blinking sleepily. Spencer slips back under the covers and proffers the coffee mug. Gerard drains it in under four seconds. Clearly, coffee-chugging is a genetic trait.

He sets the mug down on the bedside table and plops his head back on the pillow, reaching for Spencer a little tentatively, like he's not sure it's okay to cuddle. Spencer curls into him willingly, enjoying the warmth.

"So," says Gerard hesitantly, maybe a little hopefully, "is this a one-time thing? Just proving to yourself that you could?"

Spencer tilts his head up, catching Gerard's eye. "I dunno. Do you ever talk about anything besides art?"


End file.
